“Luca, please,” I murmur as I sit on the edge of my new bed, shoulders slumped.
He walks across the room and sits next to me. I can barely burden the weight that’s pressing down on me, and he sees it.
“Come here.” He breathes the words as he pulls me into his arms. “I just don’t want you to be alone.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
My words are worthless; I’m far from fine. My last hope was hanging on my finals, and although I scored impressively on them, the university was unforgiving and pulled my scholarship anyway.
On top of the stress of having to quit school, losing my place to live, and finding a job that will support me, this will be the first Christmas without my parents.
“You’re a shitty liar, you know?”
Pulling back, I tell him, “I’m not lying. I’m actually going back home to Tennessee to spend Christmas with my brother and his family.”
“Well, if you change your mind, I don’t leave until tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thanks, but I really think that it’ll be good for me to go home for a little while.” It isn’t the truth, but I tell him the lie anyway.
Luca gives me an agreeing nod, and I watch as he walks out of the room. When he closes the door behind him, I fall back onto the bed and think about my brother, who is the same one I just lied to Luca about. The one with the family that doesn’t exist—never has. Matthew is the true reason I fight so hard for a better life, the reason why I refuse to throw in the towel.
Luca was right when he said it wouldn’t take me long to unpack, and less than an hour later, I’m lying on top of my bed while night casts its haunting glow through the windows. The wind howls with unforgiving force through the bare trees, and I shiver with a chill that prickles along my skin. My chest feels hollow; it’s felt this way for days as I fight to bury despair and feign indifference to my situation. Even more, I’m fighting the hardest to run from the absence of my mom and dad.
It’s been nearly a year since I lost them. I’ve been doing everything I can not to think about it, but it’s impossible when all my body has to feed on is the sadness that dwells inside me. It’s a painful ache that constricts around my lungs as I push back the tears. I wish to be stronger than my weakness. I wish to be free from the sadness.
Something pulls me out of bed. Maybe it’s the longing for solace . . . maybe it’s restlessness, I don’t know, but I walk to my door anyway. The hardwood floors are cold under my feet as I allow sorrow to carry me to comfort. The clock reads after midnight, and when I peek into Luca’s room, he sits awake on the edge of his bed, staring out at the snowfall.
He turns to me when he hears me enter. “Are you okay?”
I don’t want to show my fragility, but I can no longer hang on to my deteriorating strength. In my defeat, I let go of the fight for a brief moment and admit, “You’re right. I’m alone.”
Luca’s eyes soften as I stand here, heartsick.
“And I’m sad,” I speak on a broken voice. “I’m so sad, Luca.”
“Come here.”
He holds the covers back for me, and I climb in next to him.
He’s warm.
He’s comfort.
Luca’s strength bands around me when my body trembles. Silently, I pray for him to take my pain away—to heal me entirely. But my heart continues to break within his arms.
Pressing against him, I search for comfort within his hold. It’s the craving to simply belong when I’m so lost. My legs tangle with his, and when his hand moves to cradle the back of my head, my body slacks and relaxes fully.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, tucking my head under his chin. “You aren’t alone.”
With those words, I hang on even tighter because I’m scared he might be wrong.
“Will you talk to me?”
I shake my head like a coward, but he only holds me closer.
“We always used to talk,” he says.
And he’s right. But, ever since my parents’ death I’ve been shutting him out more and more. I even refused to allow him to come to the funeral when he wanted nothing more than to be there for me. I’m too scared of ever feeling the pain of abandonment again. But it isn’t just Luca, I’ve shut everyone out. If I can build a wall around myself, then I can protect myself from ever getting hurt.
So, that’s what I do.
After ten long hours in the car, I arrive at my brother’s exhausted and park in front of the facility that’s been his home since shortly after our parents died. It wasn’t my choice for him to be here, but I had no other option. It broke my heart when the transition had to be made from my parents’ house to a state-run facility for the mentally disabled. Matthew is low-functioning autistic and isn’t able to live or make sound decisions on his own. After the accident, the state stepped in and took the house and cars to pay off my parents’ debt, making it so that we were barely even able to pay for the burial plot and funeral.
That wasn’t the hardest part, though.
After their deaths, I did everything I could to win guardianship of my brother. I put myself in debt with all the court and attorney fees I racked up because there was no way in hell I was giving that right to the state of Tennessee. He’s my brother, and I have a responsibility to take care of him any way I can.
Since I can’t afford to put him in a private facility, he stays here, where the state picks up the majority of the cost, leaving me with the rest. The amount of credit card debt I’ve racked up this past year has been monumental. He’s the reason I’ve been fighting so hard to stay at Georgetown. All that is over now, but no matter how bleak my future looks, I’ll do whatever I can to get him out of this derelict place and into a private facility.
I called last week to let them know that I would be taking Matthew for Christmas, so when I walk in to sign him out, the director is waiting for me to discuss Matthew. It comes as no surprise that the setbacks outweigh the progress. Matthew doesn’t handle change or stressful situations very well. They trigger his anxiety and temperament.
“Emma!” Matthew exclaims when he enters the director’s office with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. “Why weren’t you here at five o’clock when you said you would be?”
I wrap my arms around my big brother and squeeze him. “I’m sorry. I got a late start this morning, but I’m here now.”
“But you said you’d be here at five.”
“I know.” I drop my arms from around him and step back, seeing the annoyance in his eyes.
“It’s after six. It isn’t five like you said.”
Resting my hand on his shoulder, I nod as I release a breathy chuckle. “I know. I’m late.”
“Yeah, because it isn’t five.”
“Matthew, sometimes people run late,” Mrs. Nguyen says as she stands from behind her desk. “I know you were expecting her at five, but we have to remember to be flexible, okay?”
Matthew nods. “Yeah, okay,” he says before adding, “But she said five.”
I shake my head and smile, taking his bag for him and pushing on his shoulder to lead him out.
“Why didn’t you call?”